(Retold in Rhyme) <br /> <br />They threw him in a prison cell; <br />He moaned upon his bed. <br />And when he crept from coils of hell: <br />"Last night you killed," they said. <br /> <br />"last night in drunken rage you slew <br />A being brave with breath; <br />A radiant soul, because of you <br />Lies dark in death." <br /> <br />"last night I killed," he moaned distraught, <br />"When I was wild with wine; <br />I slew, and I remember naught . . . <br />O Mother, Mother mine! <br /> <br />"To what unbridled rage may lead <br />You taught me at your knew. <br />Why did I not your warning heed . . . <br />And now - the gallows tree. <br /> <br />"O Mother, Mother, come to me, <br />For I am sore distrest, <br />And I would kneel beside your knee <br />And weep upon your breast. . . ." <br /> <br />They stared at him; their lips were dumb, <br />Their eyes tear filled; <br />Then spoke the Priest: "She cannot come . . . <br />'Twas she you killed."<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-old-story-2/
